Directed by
Katsuhiro Otomo
“Neo Tokyo is about to explode.”
So boasts the famous tagline
for Akira, and it couldn’t be more appropriate: futureless juveniles zip
throughout the streets on their motorcycles as urban decay, political
corruption, and civil unrest terrorize the city of Neo Tokyo. Only miles away
is the apocalyptic rubble of Japan’s capital, a bleak backdrop masked by decaying
urban squalor masked by gaudy neon lights. Such circumstances have planted a
gravid combustion of shattered dreams, hopelessness and nihilism, especially
among the youth, all of which becomes manifested in a blubbering, corpulent
mass of flesh and technology once known only as Tetsuo. It’s only natural to
say that Neo Tokyo’s ultimate demise is inevitable.
1988 was a defining year for
Japanimation, with three of its most iconic films of its kind seeing a release
that year: My Neighbor Totoro, Grave of the Fireflies, and, of
course, Akira, and the release of the latter, ironically, triggered an
explosion of sorts in life itself. Simply put: there was pop culture before Akira,
and then after. Over 30 years later, Akira assertively stands as not
only landmark in adult animation alone, but one of the finest achievements in
the art of 2D animation, and very arguably the most iconic film in the world of
Japanese anime, one that was enough to spark an entire generation’s interest
into the world of anime.
The city of Neo Tokyo is the result
of a world desperately trying to put its broken pieces back together, a mold of
civil normality shattered by Tokyo’s obliteration in 1988 (an event which provoked
World War 3) by a phenomenon known only as Akira, its existence of which is
only known by the government. Here we are in 2019, and some of the pieces have
been put back together, albeit rather crudely. Teenagers Kaneda and Tetsuo are products
of the Post-Akira world. Apathetic toward their studies in vocational school,
the highlights of their life consist of late-night mischief with their biker
gang, popping pills in seedy pubs and getting wrapped up in violent skirmishes
with rival gangs.
It’s a night like any other with
these ruffians when things take a sharp turn: after a collision with a
mysterious child, extraordinary powers are awakened within Tetsuo, who is promptly
abducted by the government for research purposes. As events unfold, the very
powers Tetsuo possesses are identical to that of Akira. Meanwhile, after another
run-in with the law, Kaneda teams up with not only a member of a local
resistance force, but also a trio of psychic children (one of which was the
cause of Tetsuo’s collision), who prophesize that with Tetsuo’s abilities now
harnessed, it is only a matter of time before said powers grow beyond his
control, which will lead to Neo Tokyo’s destruction.
It sounds like a mess of ideas,
and Akira indeed feels like it could go off the rails at any moment,
especially considering the film is a tightly condensed adaptation of the
then-incomplete manga series, which would not conclude until 1990. I must admit
that I am yet to read the manga (it is certainly on my reading list now), but
whatever omissions were made were for the best in terms of a movie adaptation,
and it makes sense why. Behind the film adaptation is the author of the manga
himself, Katsuhiro Otomo, who was wise to helm this film – after all, nobody
knows the source material at heart level like the original creator.
Akira may not have been
made for the explicit purpose of bringing anime to the west, but it had the perfect
myriad of elements and influences to introduce us to the form. Blind-sided
viewers of Akira in the early 90s were undoubtedly made right at home
upon first viewing, fondly reminiscent of Blade Runner’s cyberpunk
metropolis and Mad Max’s frantic motorcycle action, elements of which
are clearly present in Akira. We are given exactly what we need to be
bought into Akira’s world when Otomo begins giving us the insanity, one
plot point at a time, but never giving away too much too early, but just enough
to keep us interested and enthralled.
Watching this for only
my second time in my life, and my first in over 10 years, I was struck by just
how bleak Akira is. Dystopian futures are difficult to pull off without
some kind of fetishization of their imaginations (lets admit it; the future of Blade
Runner looks pretty damn rad). Very, very few films of this caliber
remain grounded in their portrayals of doomed futures, and Akira stands
out as one of those few (the only other that immediately comes to mind is The
Terminator).
By the time Akira peaks
to its climax, one so bizarrely mesmerizing it compares to nothing else, we are
out of breath and can only gawk at the screen, only to conclude on a note of
open-ended profundity (though this open ending was done in part to give no clue
to the manga’s future). Did we scratch our heads in bewilderment? Absolutely,
but Akira was such a spectacular experience that our lack of
understanding didn’t matter. We witnessed something truly special, and we
wanted more like it, and so the west’s love for anime truly begins.
While I am in no way the most
well-versed in the world of anime, I’m no stranger either, but even among its
peers then (let alone now), Akira still stands out, particularly in regards
to animation. Anime has always been characterized by a sort of choppy stiffness
in the animated portions, particularly amongst characters (notice in many
animes how characters cease movement when talking). Akira, meanwhile, had
the biggest budget for its time ($9 million), and not one penny went to waste,
as Akira boasts animation like few films. Character movement is
startlingly fluid through each and every interaction, but where Akira really
shines is it backgrounds: the cityscapes are expansive in scope and scale,
monolithic in a way that few animated films were at this time. Not only that,
but they are rich in detail and breathe prominently with life – Akira is
the kind of movie that rewards repeat viewings, shining a light on certain
details not previously noticed before.
Furthering the bewilderment is
Akira’s score, which sought to expand on the film’s maddening effect. In
research for this piece, I turned to a retrospective video on YouTube by one
Oliver Harper (one of my favorite YouTubers), whose own research revealed that Akira’s
composer, Geinoh Yamashirogumi, was also a scientist who wanted to experiment
with ultrasound and hypersonic effects on the mind.Assembled with kinetic use
of various exotic instruments and a particular emphasis on heavy breathing
noises, and other such vocal usage, the final product sounds nothing short of a
noh play from hell.
Akira is one of those
movies that has laid its fingerprints on countless pieces of various media for
years to follow. It would define the overall setting for a number of animes into
the 90s (Dragon Ball Z’s cities feel like a cleaner version of Neo Tokyo),
and its cyberpunk atmosphere would influence countless imitators that could never
quite match up, Ghost in the Shell being perhaps the most notable
example (which feels more like a bloated pilot for a series rather than a
movie). But the influence goes much further than just Japanimation; parallels in
a number of movies (Chronicle), video games (Final Fantasy VII),
and TV shows (South Park, with a hilarious parody – you know the one)
can be seen all over the place, whether in major influence, or subtle
references peppered in. Anime is sometimes maligned as being outrageous to the
point of hilarity, but Akira is nothing short of master-level
Japanimation, and with the seismic effect that followed its release, its truly
one of the greatest animated films ever made.
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